Music Tells My Stories

     I've been told repeatedly by family and friends that I have a type. It's true. I do. I love to look at a muscled up, scruffy faced guy with tattoos. They get me going on so many levels. I tend to use these types of guys for inspiration when I write, and I think they serve me well. Ok, so they serve me well for more than just my writing, but I'm not going there. (At least not with this post.)      But let me go on the record with this. Just because I have a type, does not mean I discriminate. I appreciate the male body in all its various shapes and forms. Tall or short, hard body or dad body, long hair, short hair, no hair? I don't care. You see, as cliche as it sounds, in the long run, looks just aren't that important to me. I appreciate (Oh, believe me, I do!) a handsome, sexy man just as much as the next person, but I need more attributes in my men than just a nice face and body.      Can he make me laugh? (Humor takes the top spot on my list. Sue me.) Does h

 There was a time in my life that I felt the need to be a people pleaser, to not rock the boat, and I always seemed to keep to calmer waters. It took me many years to realize the emotional damage I was doing to myself by trying to be what I wasn't, to act a certain way when it was not the way I felt, and most certainly not the way I wanted to act. The older I've gotten, the more I have let go of that controlled, meek person and have embraced my true self. Doing so has helped my mental and physical health more than you can possibly imagine. I drink. I cuss. I have a dirty mind and, damn it, I've finally started using it the way I want to. Writing erotic romance has not only given me an outlet for my true self, but it has also helped open my eyes to the person I want to be. I want to say what I think without censorship, do what I please without judgment. I finally feel like I'm doing that. And for those that do judge me? Fuck you. I don't care. Now, don't get me w

I've debated just how much I want to share here, but I've said time and time again that I am an open and honest person, so here goes nothing. Recently I was asked about my past sexual experiences, specifically to name the most unusual location I'd had sex. I had to sit and think for a bit about this one and the fact that I had to think about it messed with my head a little. I actually sat there for a moment and called myself a slut as I listed place after place. Can you imagine being so hard on yourself for your past that you would call yourself a derogatory name and believe it without a doubt? I had to dig deep to pull myself out of the beginnings of a mental spiral. Don't laugh. I have spiraled over less. I've never felt I was overly promiscuous, but listing place after place and naming off all of the people I had been with threw me for a loop. Why was I so surprised? I mean, it isn't like I didn't know how many people I had slept with! My first sexual exp

 Let me take a moment to welcome my new readers. Would you like to know a little more about me? Well, I'm going to tell you whether you want to or not because I'm a pushy person and I have a deep need to know as much about people as possible and feel they should know me, as well. I grew up in the far western corner of the great state of Kentucky. It is a rural area rich in history, farming and, in my hometown, excellence in football (American football - not soccer. My apologies to my non-American readers.) I grew up in an area and at a time where locking your doors was an option, not a necessity. This has probably made me a much more trusting soul than is wise, but I am what I am.  A typical Friday night for me as a teen was spent hanging with my friends at the local roller rink, skating the night away. Or, once I started driving, cruising in a large loop through the town, blasting music and laughing with my other friends as they drove that same loop, hanging out of our car win